Unwanted Outcome
by psychoanalyst
Summary: A mysterious dream. A nameless angel. One fiery kiss. How can two unparallels beings overcome their mistakes and....each other? [warning of drabble cautiously dull]


'—' indication of sound to movement or preferable currency of one's thoughts

"—" speech or special emphasis

"_Come," the eerie voice begged ruefully, nearing, "Come closer."_

"_Who are you?" _

"_Please come," in a higher tone of desperation, it began to falter, "Please."_

_The lone boy took small steps, approaching the foreign sound. He halted in his slow pace and during a silent moment, he pounced at the nearby presence that taunted his dreams. _

_A smooth brown mane buried her features; he angled her bangs behind her ears, while he consumed the cloudy image before him. Her face was angelic, glistening in layers of soft cotton and golden halo. With shoulder-length hair, her short round bangs framed her clean profile perfectly, sharing her irresistible beauty to the world. _

_Her shapely body was curtain in a loose gown of white. Her glance was sideways; using his thumb, he directed her shy gaze on him. _

_Like a silent gasp, he sucked in his breath as he sucked in the depths of the pair of soulful hazel eyes of the feminine patron beneath him. _

_She bit her lower lip in angst, averting his acute stare upon her. Finally, as if her charge answered his prayers, her avoiding eyes met his. Under the intense glare of his dark orbs, she felt an unsteady beat of her heart, rapidly increasing at his impending closeness of his lips toward hers. _

_She could have moved away, but she hadn't. She should have, but the moistness of mouth tempted her deeply. The taste…fragrance of his neck…his touch…all too interested her to back away now. She slipped her petite fingers in the ruffled spikes of his fiery flock, uncaring to whether the consequences as the kiss adjusted to a higher level of intimacy. She did, however, prevented his roaming hand as it unnoticeably lingered on the rim of her gown. _

_Her head fervently twitched as she nodded—opening her eyes to emit an ignorant stare—sideways, adhering her right cheek to the gentle polyester material under them. _

_From what in suggesting a mere jest resolved to an undignified scandal between two unparallel beings. The celestial patroness winced, realizing her erstwhile wager with her irrefutable companions, she **did** exert more than what was expected of her aid. _

Daisuke Niwa snapped the _Snooze_ on his booming alarm clock while he groggily removed himself from his bedsheets. Slumping shoulders assaulted the outset of his bathroom door as he paraphrased a short plethora of groaned profanity until a blatant '**shut**' of the door silenced the mid-morning doom.

**i**

**Azumano Middle School**

"Niwa-san, please participate with us on Earth." Sensei Asou Shiro reprimanded blandly at his listless pupil, whom still has not spared any reaction to his educator's warning.

Satoshi Hiwatari drooped in his wooden seat, observing warily Niwa-san's minuscule span of interest towards his glowering educator. _Hmm,_ he countered silently, _guess Takeshi will serve his own detention today._

Daisuke propped his supplies on his assigned desk and randomly flipped a page of his textbook. He found himself perfunctorily turning each page, aimlessly. Regardless of the aforementioned page by his sensei, he discovered the hard surface of the back cover of his book before lifting his head to gaze innocently at his sensei's creased forehead and limelight of today's lesson—not the ancient green chalk board—on him.

His lips pursed in growing apprehension, nonchalantly produced a response, "Yes, sensei?"

Amber rocks glazed into Daisuke's own hairy flames, "What's the use of your borrowing the school's textbook if you're not going to pay attention to even learn from it, Niwa-san?"

"Ano," followed by a series of incoherent utterances as sensei Shiro handed a scratch of paper. On it, appeared a list of times, which apparently served for Daisuke's new detention schedule, besides Takeshi's of course.

A low audible _ring_ ordered the next class session, all the students piled out through the class entrance. Takeshi attacked Daisuke's scalp from behind, hounding him for an explanation. "Dude! What happened! Now who's going to serve my hours when I go looking for some scoop on Dark!"

Daisuke's expression was contrite, pitiful glances from his other classmates heightened his embarrassment. All he could say was, "I'm sorry."


End file.
